


Blind Date

by Marmalade_Skies



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-04
Updated: 2011-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-14 10:03:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/148086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marmalade_Skies/pseuds/Marmalade_Skies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since his divorce, Sam's best friend has been getting steadily more insistent about finding him someone that she approved of. Agreeing to the occasional blind date seemed like a good idea until he realizes that she's set him up with his ex-boyfriend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blind Date

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for GleeJukebox_
> 
>  **Song Inspiration:**  
>  \- [Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yxofSejV-7w&ob=av2e)  
> \- [Celine Dion - It's All Coming Back to Me Now](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZjCIhV0QEPc)

Sam stopped outside the restaurant to check his reflection in the window one last time. He wasn’t quite as in shape as he’d been back in his quarterback days, but for someone pushing thirty and with a desk job, he thought he still looked pretty darn studly.

Ever since his divorce, and the very embarrassing rebound relationships with Candi-with-an-i and then Ramon the fiery fireman, Alice had been getting steadily OCD-ier about finding him someone that she approved of. She had been his best friend since college, she knew all his tells so he couldn’t even hope to bullshit her, she was interested in his love life (or lack thereof) to an unhealthy degree and lately, she’d displayed an increasing willingness to do whatever it took to get the job done, up to and including : plotting with Sam’s mother, taking him out and having “fortuitous” encounters with promising prospects, and even dropping hints about possibly taking him to church socials.

Agreeing to the occasional blind date had seemed like a good way to put a stop to the escalation. Plus it saved him the effort of having to go out to try and meet people, which was just fine with him. Sam never had any game, and he’d come to accept that that wouldn’t ever change.

So tonight he’d meet mysterious stranger #4 (a.k.a. the man with the turquoise tie), though Henry, Alice’s husband, had been kind enough to mention the man worked in his law firm. The third three mysterious strangers had been nice enough, if somewhat boring ; Sam liked his lovers ( whether male or female ) to be artistic, good-looking and with some fire in them, and Alice liked Sam’s lovers sane, employed and college-educated.

But even if this date turned out to be as sedate as the previous ones, at least it got him out of the house.

He took a deep breath, walked into the restaurant and just as he was about to approach the hostess, Sam spotted him.

Sam did a mental keyboardsmash.

He was wondering about a swift and strategic retreat, when their eyes met, and time, for the briefest of moment, seemed to stop.

Kurt looked good. He looked really really good.

There he was, perfectly coiffed, the same flawless creamy skin, dressed to the nines in a grey suit, the turquoise tie making the blue of his eyes even more vivid than usual, especially as wide open as they were, and the almost cartoonish look of horrified slack-jawed surprise was what did Sam in.

He tried not to giggle, he did, but he probably didn’t try hard enough, because Kurt’s expression switched to icy distance in an instant.

Sam made his way to their table, but he was not doing so well trying to come up with an opening line.

Kurt didn’t have any such trouble. “Alice is a dead woman.”

Sam scratched the side of his head. “Yeah. I mean, this ? She’s like the worst matchmaker ever.”

Kurt gave the chair across from his a slight push with his foot. “Sit down. People will start staring.”

Sam did as he was told, while Kurt waved at the waiter, clearly needing a drink as badly as Sam did. They ordered and once the waiter was gone, they were left staring at each other.

“So, uh, you’re a lawyer now?”

Kurt gave him a withering glance. “Still a dazzling conversionalist, I see.”

Sam met him glare for glare. “I make do with manners.”

“I can’t believe I got roped into this.”

Sam snorted. “All things considered, if anyone should be upset, it’s me. Your idea of breaking up with me was turning my car into a giant fireball on our high school’s parking lot.”

“I have no knowledge of what you speak of,” said Kurt, with the hint of a smug smile, and he hummed under his breath.

Sam narrowed his eyes. “Right. The denial would be more convincing if you weren’t humming ‘Before He Cheats’ right now.”

Kurt stopped humming and gave him the kind of angelic expression that would have been cause for concern even back when Kurt loved him.

The tension was defused by the waiter returning with their drinks.

After he left, Sam looked down at the table. “I’m sorry, Kurt. I mean, you’re kind of a sociopath for reacting the way you did, but after putting up with all my bisexual teenager angst and all my coming out issues, you didn’t deserve me stepping out like that.”

“You didn’t ‘step out’, Sam. That implies a modicum of considerate discretion. You made out with Santana. On prom night. In front of me and half the school.”

Sam looked up and felt shitty when he saw Kurt’s face. Kurt didn’t look smug or angry, just hurt. If after all this time, the memory was still enough to create cracks in his armor of indifference, it must have messed Kurt up pretty horribly.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Kurt. No one deserves to be humiliated in public like that.”

Kurt sighed. “I didn’t care about the humiliation, Sam. I’ve been humiliated in public my entire life. What I couldn’t deal with was the heartbreak. You didn’t love me. If you had, you’d never have done it.”

Sam felt slapped. “That is such bullshit.”

Kurt gave him the kind of look only someone who’d spent their formative years around Sue Sylvester would be capable of. “I beg your pardon ?”

Sam dug in his heels. “Me not loving you. That’s complete bullshit. I was a moron, and I was drunk, and I had a lot of issues about myself, and I did something mean and incredibly stupid, but I fucking loved you, okay? You don’t get to erase two years of us being happy because I was a moron for one evening.”

Sam tried to calm himself down, but Kurt’s undivided attention wasn’t helping.

“You never apologized. Or tried to talk to me.”

“Yes, well, I was miserable and if I could have taken the whole evening back I would have. But, as I already mentioned : giant fireball. It sends a message.”

Kurt seemed to relax slightly. “My Machiavellian plans always did have a way of biting me in the ass, even on those rare occasions when they worked.”

Sam didn’t give himself time to think and let it all out. “I didn’t know it would be you tonight. I swear. But even if I had known, I would still be here. Not even to deliver that apology, though you really deserved it, but just ... to see you. I missed you.”

Kurt’s eyes were the liquid kind of soft that they always became whenever he was trying not to cry.

“I’m sorry I turned your car into a giant fireball ... allegedly.”

Sam chuckled and so did Kurt, then Sam decided to sing. Soft, just loud enough for Kurt to hear.

“There were nights when the wind was so cold …”

Kurt laughed. “Céline Dion. It’s nice to know that the time we spent together managed to refine musical tastes at least ...”

“Actually, that was Meat Loaf.”

“You’re a heathen.”

Sam smiled. “His version is a duet.”

“A heathen and a sap too. What am I going to do with you?”

“How about we have dinner, and see where we go from there?”

“Works for me.”


End file.
